Brotherhood of Fire and Ash
by RobMc
Summary: The story of the town and people of Bellum, a pretty insignificant town, so insignificant in fact it wasn't even mentioned in Fallout: New Vegas. But, it won't always be this way, sooner than they think.


**Chapter 1**

The unrelenting heat almost made one wish for a nuclear winter.

The sun beat down sucking any bit of moisture from the air as Casper emptied the contents of his canteen over his head. It cascaded down around him sending shivers throughout his body. He stood, arms outstretched, relishing in the miniscule lifespan of water, smiling as the evidence of his punishable act disappeared beneath him. He looked out across the desert landscape from his vantage point atop the hotel. For three miles around all that broke the monotonous scene of piss yellow sand was a scattering of sparsely leaved shrubs and tall palm trees further off in the distance. To the west was a series of undulating dunes that rose and fell before succumbing to Vaders rock, a large sandstone formation that's sheer size would have dwarfed anything around it, if anything had happened to be around it. The side facing Casper was a steep incline, a lack of sturdy outcrops made it difficult to climb, the soft sandstone preferring to buckle and kick dust to the wind.

The town extended to the south, a collection of prefabs and old shipping containers. Most contained food, but one was currently housing the towns first criminal, imprisoned for killing someone's dog over a land dispute. A land dispute in the desert. The less you have the more precious it becomes. The whole thing got even more awkward when the dog found its way onto people's plates thanks to the no waste policy. It was the tastiest meat the town had seen in months and every dog now moved with an air of paranoia.

A fizz and a crackle woke Casper from his daydreaming, "Cas, you there man?"

"Where else would I be?," He said, yawning.

"Anything unusual?"

"Not a damned thing, unless you consider Miss Hendersen's continued infidelity unusual."

Tee laughed his response, "Eyes outside the town Cas."

"Any food in that NCR shipment?"

"'fraid not. More bullets though."

Casper lifted his head to the skies, "Tell those snail skulled rabbits we need food and not more god damn bullets!"

"I know Cas, it will arrive like it always does, late. Keep me posted. Out."

"You got it." The transceiver went dead.

Positioned upon a tripod on the north corner of the hotel was Casper's pride and joy, a 7.62mm Dragunov sniper rifle filled with tracer armour piercing incendiary rounds. The beauty could knock a fully grown Brahmin bull from two miles and cook it from the inside before you even reached the carcass. Casper fingered with the trigger and ran his hand down the length of the rifle. He placed an eye through the sight and swiveled the gun, resting it as it pointed north. Off in the distance the light from the sun danced across the tall tower of the Lucky 38 casino. It lorded above the city of New Vegas behind giant walls. Casper flicked a button on the side of the rifle and the city zoomed closer. Edging over the wall could now be seen the tops of other three larger casinos of the New Vegas strip, the De-luxe, the Topps and the Gomorrah, all run independently by once waring families. Casper had never been to the city, but he had heard plenty of stories from ex-military in the town tavern. Fortunes made and lost. Many of the NCR brass lauded the place, but they couldn't stop their men from showering the place with caps. It must have been good for morale at least, he thought.

Casper flicked the switch and New Vegas flew back off into the distance. The sun drifted, lonely, south. Casper's empty stomach ached and growled. As if reading his mind the radio crackled again. "Wanna hit the grub shack? I'm starving, I'll send Eve up to cover you."

"You complete me Tee."

The Grub shack as it was called was situated across from the hotel in what must have been a fancy restaurant at some time. Metal seats, whatever once cushioned them long gone faced each other, a plastic table between them. Upon entry one was greeted by the empty gaze of some sort of make up clad man, although the colours had long faded, he loomed overhead, a permanent smile etched across his rusted face. Old menus hung above the kitchens offering long forgotten delights, in reality the only food on the menu was charred Brahmin meat with a side of colourless slop made from yesterday's leftovers. Casper grabbed a tray and gladly accepted what he was given.

The restaurant was empty but for a lone blonde haired girl who jabbed at her plate absentmindedly. She looked no more than 18, even still, the profanities that came out of her mouth didn't surprise either Casper or Nate as they sat down beside her.

"What do you two shizzheads want?" She said, the added smile rendering the comment innocuous.

"Eh!" Cas remarked as he slapped the back of her head, "Watch your mouth."

"You get classier every year Viv," Tee guffawed.

"Eh!" Cas shouted again sending a warning slap at Tee, "That's my sister!"

Viv gave them both a withering look. After that there was silence as they scoffed their food and battled for Vivian's leftovers. As they spooned the last mouthfuls Vivian piped up, ignoring their disgusting sounds.

"Legion bowsys getting ready for another attack on the dam I've heard."

Tee cleared his throat, "Heard from who?"

"Radio chatter on NCR frequencies is going crazy, sightings all across the canyons, from cottin'wood to the Devil's throat. Hasn't been this much movement in a decade." She spoke with a subtle tone of excitement as she brushed unkempt hair from her face.

"I wouldn't listen too seriously kid, most people that far out are raving lunatics." Tee said dismissively.

Vivian persisted, "But what if it's true?"

Cas pushed his bowl away from him, "Good."

"Good?" Vivian and Tee both looked at Cas.

"We need a war, thousands die every year defending that dam, every year there are less recruits. The NCR is becoming less of a fighting force and more a miss matched outfit of old men with fading memories of war, young men weighed down by imaginary medals, boys with nothing else to do, criminals with nothing better to do and farmers with nothing left to do. Let them come."

As he rose from his seat, his concern for his sister returned, "The NCR don't think highly of people eavesdropping on restricted radio channels, stick to the supply frequencies like you're meant to."

"Oh save it Nate," Vivian spat, "I get bored in that room all alone."

"How did you get into restricted frequencies in the first place?" Tee asked, intrigued.

She shrugged innocently, "Those NCR boys get lonely too I guess."

Tee laughed uproariously while Cas struggled to keep his food down.

Vivian continued as she followed the two of them out of the Grub shack, "When the arn't stroking their egos, they all say pretty much the same, we're going to war."

"Your not going anywhere," Cas said looking back over his shoulder. He pulled a baseball cap from his pocket and pulled it down over his head, respite for his sun stung eyes. He snuck a glance up at the roof of the hotel spying his Dragunov and Eve hanging from it, a box beneath her. She swung the rifle around, perhaps a leprous desert rat catching her eye as it darted from bush to bush. The hotel stood four stories tall, a big concrete behemoth visible from miles around, it succeeded in attracting all sorts of scum to the town, powder gangers, chem heads and of course the NCR. They has forcefully designated the town an official "fallback" outpost in case the war in the east went sour. As such their was a permanent NCR presence in the town. They had taken over the bottom floor of the hotel originally, of course the disgruntled protested, especially those ousted from their homes., but the major assured us that the increased military presence and access to a medical bay would benefit all in the long run. But, as the besieged Hoover Dam called out for more able bodies the town was left with only a handful of troops. Of these handful only two had actually fired their weapons, both farmers. The doctor and comms officer has been taken and supply drops to the town diminished. All we seemed to get now was more ammunition. The town huddled around the hotel, a scattering of concrete buildings, all of which had been scarred by time and war in some way. Caved in roofs and walls, rotted wooden furnishings and technologies, their intricate curcuitry beyond reclamation. In the years since its re-discovery, rubble has been removed and buildings rebuilt with the abundance of wreckage that now sullied the surrounding landscape. Circling the town was a chain link fence, on the outside of which lay a ditch that would swallow any unwelcome guests. In previous years, with a stronger NCR presence, a watchtower had been erected in the north-west corner of the town, atop this was a powerful watch light that pierced the most persistant blackness.

Vivian pointed to the badge upon her breast as she skipped past the trooper on the first floor plaza of the hotel. He didn't even lift his eyes. Since the NCR call up she had been instated as temporary comms officer. She had been the only applicant. A tech head through and through she had managed to outdo her predecessor with minimal effort, boosting signal ranges as far as the Western wastelands, even though not that much came from out there only small mining towns and clan villages. She had been busy the past few weeks, linking up with as many outposts as she could, she was in the early stages of opening trade between outposts and even setting up a fiend or legion early warning system with the surrounding villages.

She delicately hopped over some loose black cables that snaked across the floor as she moved towards a desk with a skyscraper of radios stacked almost to the ceiling. Vivian had been using every radio she could get her hands on to scour the Mojave, searching for even the tiniest crackle. Once a frequency was found, she locked in on it and started to calibrate the signal until it turned into something useable. Most of the time it didn't. But, on the rare occasions it did she would use to transceiver to get a response.

Flicking a few switches absentmindedly she propped her feet up on the desk, leaned back and closed her eyes. The constant humming and vibrations of the hulking metallic mainframe behind her almost lulled one into dreamland. Before she could quite get there though, a crackle sounded, she quickly lunged forward and locked in the frequency, "That was quick", she mumbled, she then began the monotonous task of calibrating the signal. In a flurry of movement she spun dials and danced her fingers across keys, typing in lines of seemingly random code, machines whirred into life at her command. She pushed off from her desk, the wheels beneath her chair squeaking in protest, as she kicked off she spun, coming around just in time to click more buttons before twisting her body and gracefully kicking off in order to arrive back at her desk.

The intermittent crackle eventually changed to a slow fuzz. Vivian stopped typing and boosted the signal. When no audible sound came through she sent out frequency pulses, she tapped her finger on the desk for every second that passed before the pulse returned to her, 1, 2, 3, 4, close, she took a mental note and picked up the transceiver. She paused for a moment in thought, she quickly sent out another pulse and when it echoed back she took a deep breath and said into the transceiver, "Hello? If somebody is there please respond." There was no response. "I repeat, if somebody is there please respond." Again she was met with only silence. She stood, transceiver in hand, she went to talk again but stopped. She sent out another signal pulse to make sure she wasn't going crazy, 1, 2, 3, the signal echoed back seemingly a second too soon, she did it again and again she only tapped her fingers three times, "The hell?" She said aloud. She lifted the transceiver again and took a breath, "Look, I know whoever is there is hearing this, your radio is echoing my signal pulses, I know the bloody thing is on, who is this?..." She waited, still nothing. She placed the transceiver on the desk and lifted herself out of her chair. Upon the sidewall to her right hung a large map that covered most of the concrete wall. The map showed the whole of the Mojave, up to New Vegas, across to the Western wastelands and east of the grand canyon. The map was divided into 16 grids and each grid was divided into quadrants. Vivian had mapped as many NCR outposts, towns, radio towers, clan forts and even frequencies she suspected to be the Brotherhood od Steel. The result was a map of scattered pins. She drew a circle three miles around the town, on the edge of the circle was nothing but sand dunes and old camping site and Vaders rock.

As she looked at the map she heard a crackle from behind and suddenly the transceiver came to life, at first it was incoherent fuzz, until a gruff voice spoke through, "Clever girl". Her heart pounding in her chest she ran for the transceiver, but before she could muster a response the signal had gone dead.


End file.
